


Galaxies, and Chocolate Infused with Lightning

by SweeterDevils



Series: Volleyball Crush - Haikyuu Oneshots [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, but it gets better, its angsty at first aah, noya is sad, so is Kanoka, tagging systems are so aah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweeterDevils/pseuds/SweeterDevils
Summary: Nishinoya Yuu comes back home to Japan, after years of travelling around the world.He thinks that there’s nothing new he can find in the world, no new experiences that can erase his lingering feelings over the things that happened and hurt him, in the past.Then, he experiences Amanai Kanoka
Relationships: Amanai Kanoka/Nishinoya Yuu, some Tanaka Ryuunosuke/Shimizu Kiyoko - Relationship
Series: Volleyball Crush - Haikyuu Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083893
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Galaxies, and Chocolate Infused with Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! This one's by me, SweeterDevils - for Nishinoya and Amanai. They're such a rarepair istg, does anyone even know the ship exists???
> 
> My writing on this kinda bounces from happy to sad all over the place lol, fluff and angst scattered throughout.
> 
> But I think it's okay :3

By the time Nishinoya wheeled his single suitcase out of Haneda Airport, the clock had already struck midnight. He’d checked the date and time of arrival stamped on his boarding pass plenty of times before his flight, and even through the trip – but he checked again, flicking his wrist so the ticking hands of his expensive black and gold Jaeger-LeCoultre were facing him, in the dim lights outside the giant building.

 _12:22,_ straying a tad from the single second that split the world into half.

And here he was, after almost four years of absence. Back in his home country - a place that, like the gently moving gears in his timepiece tore through time, had cleaved his life apart into multiple distinctions of light and dark.

As soon as he switched his phone on, the chirp of messages being received came tumbling out of the tiny speakers, sounding too loud in the peaceful quiet of the empty departure hall.

The screen lit up, texts from Asahi and Ryu popping up at the top – but Nishinoya only glanced at the words before putting his phone back into his pocket.

****Asahi: Don’t forget to give me a call when you land** **

**Ryu: Bro you touched down yet?**

He didn’t forget to call Asahi. He just chose not to, because being back here in Japan after . . . everything that had happened – it wasn’t a feeling as great as he wanted it to be. He wasn’t going to face his friends while he was like this.

He had enough pride, enough self-respect to allow himself whatever space needed for him get over this.

That was, after all, one of the reasons why he had spent the past four years travelling the world and filling his headspace with a million things completely different from what had already been in there when he left.

Nishinoya was a man that didn’t like dwelling on his past.

He lived for the future, for the world that was out there waiting for him. What he experienced in the years falling behind as memories, was fuel for his journey.

Dwindling behind, caught in a reverie - he hated that. Found it unreasonable.

And he hated it even more, found it pathetic, that he was stuck doing just that.

Caught in a storm, trying to evade it by running away.

Because, though he hid it well enough so nobody else got a hint of it . . . he’d moved out of Miyagi and put Japan behind in the name of learning all the new things the world had to offer, because he knew there was nothing left for him back home.

It had hurt.

When Ryu and Kiyoko-san got married.

Of course, he had been so happy – overjoyed for his best friend, when after the years of pining and endless effort, she’d given him an answer that was more than an unreadable stare or one word of rejection.

She’d finally given him an answer that was much more.

And he’d been glad – he was still glad and would always be glad, for the delight in Ryu’s eyes and for the smile Kiyoko-san had worn on her delicate, porcelain face at their wedding. He had been there for them, for Ryu, as his best man. It was a day full of laughter, promises and wishes for the future.

The future that Ryu and Kiyoko-san would build for themselves together.

Something that he had also wanted, with all of his heart.

Nishinoya knew he wasn’t envious. He wasn’t jealous. If there came a day where he got the chance to turn events around and make himself the man standing beside Kiyoko at the altar, he wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted this for Ryu and for Kiyoko-san.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

It did. A lot.

At first, there had been the sick taste of betrayal.

He and Ryu both fell in love with the same girl. Had chased after her with equal vigor. Had dreamt about her, shared with each other their dreams of being with her. Had _protected her from all harm_ , as they’d put it back in high school, together.

It was unfair for him, for his feelings that he knew were strong and real, that where both of them loved her, only one ended up with her.

And it hadn’t been him.

Nishinoya had thought that it would only be an illusion. For both Ryu and him alike. But in the end, it had only been an illusion, a reflection in the mirror, for him. Ryu had broken through the barrier between fantasy and real life, and crossed on to delve into what it was like to have dreams come true.

Leaving _Noya-san_ behind, to take it in by himself that while Ryu had been good enough, he had missed the mark. By what amount, it didn’t matter. Because in the end, he wasn’t the one, and he was left alone.

And though all of those feelings had faded away over time, they were still there.

On the cusp, at the horizon.

Lingering at the back, reaching out to be remembered.

_Even so,_ Nishinoya thought to himself, the determined look he’d always worn since he first became Karasuno’s Guardian Deity coming over him. He wasn’t afraid. He had no regrets. He was moving forward, and he was going to keep going till he set foot on a day where he was free.

Grabbing the worn handle of his suitcase, he walked outside into the cool midnight air, giving the faint stars and the crescent moon a rather rueful grin, and went to hail a taxi to take him to his hotel for the night, in Shibuya City.

-

If it had been late when his flight landed, then it was certainly beyond that by the time he pulled his suitcase out of the taxi’s trunk and pulled it past the sliding doors of the hotel he’d booked for himself.

The place was great, made to look comforting to the eyes of whatever weary traveler sauntered in with hopes of staying there for the night. Dimmed lights decorated the walls of the lobby, along with large frames that held photos of famous tourist destinations across Shibuya. The floor was polished and smooth, making it easy for him to roll his stuff over to the front desk where a pretty young woman smiled up at him, asking for his name.

“Nishinoya Yuu,” he grunted out, suddenly tired despite having slept before his trip from Vietnam.

“We have your room ready,” she hummed out, shuffling under the counter, and Nishinoya held his hand out at the sound of rustling keys.

Pressing two keys to his palm, chained together along with a lot of finery that had the hotel’s name engraved on it, she gave him another smile. “Fourth floor, last room to the left.”

“Thanks!” He mustered up the energy to return the bubbly tilt of her lips, and walked off to the elevator. Before he could press the button to bring the car down, though, the receptionist called his name out and stopped him.

He turned around, and the girl still had that same smile on her face. “There are some women staying on the floor above yours – members of a volleyball team just back from an away game – and we’ve, um, received some complaints about them being a bit too loud.” She paused, giving way to an amused chuckle that she quickly swallowed. “They’re all out right now, but they _are_ rather . . . exciting. If you’d like to change you room- “

“Nah,” Nishinoya waved her polite suggestion away. “That’s alright, I don’t mind the noise.”

Now, she looked a little surprised. “Oh, of course. No problem, sir.”

“Thank you, have a good evening.” He nodded, and entered the elevator as its doors slid soundlessly open, only the melodic _ding!_ signaling its arrival.

A women’s volleyball team on the floor above his.

Now, that could be interesting.

Except it wasn’t.

Though Nishinoya had been tired and barely able to walk the hallway to his room, as soon as he’d taken a shower and prepared for the night, all the sleep in him disappeared.

Like when he’d sunk into the comfortable, albeit a little lumpy, mattress, it had absorbed all the weariness that clung to his skin.

The room was peaceful, the air cooled by the installed air conditioner, and the only noise was the occasional hum of wheels over asphalt, which was quite pleasant to hear.

It wasn’t the hotel; the hotel was fine.

Maybe it was that Nishinoya was expecting something to happen. Perhaps for the sound of footsteps to come rushing past, maybe the soft jingle of the elevator opening and closing as it went up and down.

For voices to echo down the hall, or for the thud of footsteps from someone that had forgotten, in their flurry, that there were other people less excited about their victory than they were themselves.

He didn’t know why exactly he wanted to see these volleyball women. Maybe he was looking forward to making friends with them, people that had an ongoing interest in what he did, too.

Perhaps he was missing the sport more than he thought he was.

After all, he _had_ played at a couple of beaches with some random friends he’d made along the way, just to make sure he was still living up to the title he’d earned in high school.

Or maybe it was just him being curious.

Nishinoya wasn’t going to bother himself with figuring out reasons. That was a waste of time.

“Anyway,” He sighed, speaking out loud for himself to hear. “I’ll just head down and see if this place has a motorcycle I can rent out.”

He’d seen a mention of that when he was browsing around to see what this hotel was like.

Throwing on a jacket and a pair of jeans, Nishinoya pulled his socks and sneakers on, spread some gel through his hair, and quietly exited his room.

Locking the door behind him, he slipped the keys carefully into his wallet – something he’d made a habit after he lost the ones to his lodging at Dubai – and softly treaded down the hall. He noticed that there were no other occupied rooms among the ten.

_Wonder what those ladies are like, to scare everyone away._

He sauntered over to the elevator, thinking to himself that he’d drive around the city and find a spot on a bridge or go see the view from Shibuya Sky if they were open this late into the night – he had the money to spare.

Something to get a fresh breath of air by, because he really needed one.

Cracking a grin to himself, he stepped into the lift as the doors slid open, wondering where he took the path in life that led him to this day, so full of pensive mournfulness though he was trying so hard to push it all back.

 _Ding!_ His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he slipped it out, only to push it back in when he saw the message that had lit up the screen.

**Ryu: Dude, where you at? You should be here by now**

Having your heart broken wasn’t easy.

Having your friend leave you in the dust, without intention or not, wasn’t easy either.

But it should’ve been easy for him.

Nishinoya was building his whole life that way – sculpting a world of no regrets or fears. After all, it’d been drilled into his head since forever, till he lived and breathed it.

_Being scared was a waste of experience._

But he was scared.

To call Asahi, to text Ryu.

To let them know he was here. That he was back.

Because he didn’t want them to know – didn’t want anyone to know how he felt.

They wouldn’t understand, and he didn’t want to hear any apologies either. This wasn’t something worth apologizing about, this wasn’t anyone’s fault.

It was simply not meant to be.

And apart from all that, it would wound his pride, too.

His pride, his ego, that was already beaten and bruised.

Nishinoya was filling his head with all these thoughts, attempting to exhaust his mind of them, as he went down and absently asked the receptionist about rentals, registering that her words were directions to the hotel’s garage outside where they kept a van and some motorcycles for rent, to be paid for in advance.

Plopping down the amount she said was required, he grabbed the large key she placed on the table, and made his way from the lobby.

Walking out the door, he let the cool air hit him, cold enough to make him shiver through the two layers of clothing he wore. The buildings and streets were still mostly lit – this was Shibuya, after all – but there were no crowds in sight.

The smooth asphalt glistened, as if sprinkled lightly with rain, and Nishinoya stood there for a moment, basking in the urban tranquility of late-night Tokyo.

If things were different, he would’ve wished he booked a place closer to Shibuya station rather than a hotel at the very edge, for the increase in life and people.

For the excitement and recuperation of cinemas, malls, arcades and clubs that would kick the life into him.

But tonight, here, he was grateful for the silence.

Grateful for the drone of crickets that came from somewhere behind, and grateful that only a few cars rolled by, that only a couple of people were around.

He needed this – some silence to balance out the rampage in his head.

Perhaps the bull taming lessons he’d taken in India had another benefit to him, other than the knowledge that one breed of cattle was known as _Kangayam,_ a word that held a hilarious resemblance to the name of one hot headed, extremely talented setter he knew.

Chuckling at the reminder, he made his way to the open garage at the right of the hotel entrance, only to stop a few feet away when he saw someone inside.

The light – if there was one – was off, so he was unable to see clearly, but that was definitely a girl crouching in the corner, shielded by a decent looking motorcycle that wore a RENTAL tag on one of the handlebars.

His first thought was that she was in danger, perhaps hiding from a stalker or running away from some sleazy asshole, an ex or a drunk – so he scanned the area, making sure nobody was around.

Catching nothing suspicious in his fiery gaze, Nishinoya looked back at the girl.

She hadn’t seemed to notice him standing there, but it was better she did sooner rather than later. So, making some noise so she heard him approach, he walked into the garage and located the vehicle that had the same number on its license plate as the key in his hand.

Which was coincidentally, the motorcycle the girl was hiding behind.

Her head bobbed up, hair closely cropped and of an onyx color, revealing starry dark eyes that Nishinoya realized with a shock were red, puffy and filled with tears.

Her long lashes were stuck together with the wetness, and as soon as she registered Nishinoya’s presence beside the bike, she jumped to her feet – showing off how tall she really was, towering some inches over his frame.

Nishinoya swallowed heavily – because she may have been crying, but she was really, really cute. A little intimidating, too.

With her short hair accentuating her round face and her soft, dark eyes, she had a leanly muscled build underneath the hoodie and pants she must’ve pulled on without much thought to it – and she looked undeniably attractive, in a candid manner.

Now, he may have grown, but Nishinoya still went weak in the knees in the face of a beautiful woman. That this one was bleary-eyed with tears didn’t help how his heart softened immediately.

“S-Sorry!” she squeaked, voice hoarse from crying, but before she could run away like he knew she was about to, Nishinoya stopped her.

“Hey, uh, you alright?”

She paused, hands clutching the hem of her hoodie.

“Do you need any help?” He persisted, and she turned enough so he could see her face again. His tone, passive and polite, relieved some of the tightness in her shoulders.

“I’m not too good at the moment,” she let out a small laugh, shutting those sparkly eyes as she smiled. “But I’ll be okay, thank you.”

And that smile, sweet and innocent, pulled a shard back out from the sea of memories he hadn’t managed to drain over the years.

“Oh.” He muttered.

_The 2013 Spring InterHigh._

Before the Inarizaki match, if he wasn’t remembering wrong.

Hinata, bless that bright orange ball of energy, had bumped into him in the middle of explaining something a little too excitedly.

Sending him stumbling right into the plush boobs of a girl standing a few feet away.

Or, that’s what he had thought and expected to happen.

 _Shit_ , he thought, remembering how the girl had neatly caught him in mid air while he had been chanting a thank you to the gods for his luck, giving him a concerned look with bright, midnight eyes as she asked him, _“Oh, are you alright?”_

Giving him a smile and putting him down when he’d stammered out a confirmation to her question, nervous and embarrassed.

The same innocent smile, the same eyes specked with glitter.

His face heated up, blood rushing to fill his cheeks.

“Wait,” he said before he could put a leash on his tongue, and the girl stopped again with a foot in the air, once more about to depart. “You . . . have we met?”

She blinked, staring at him with a rather anxious look on her face that Nishinoya decided was probably because she didn’t want to converse with a stranger, pulled out from a private moment only a minute ago.

“I’m Amanai Kanoka,” she answered a few beats later, a bashful tone to her croaky voice. “An outside hitter for the L. P. Red Rabbits, and I’m also the ace for the women’s National volleyball team. Maybe you saw me on TV?”

Amanai Kanoka, yeah.

The girl whose boobs he’d wanted to faceplant, back in his second year of high school.

A wing spiker, jersey number 6, from the Niiyama Girls’ High volleyball team.

Now the ace for the women’s National team.

And . . . Ryu’s childhood friend, that the guy had mentioned to Nishinoya after he’d made her confession to him increasingly awkward by declaring his love for Kiyoko before she could even get her sentence out, only to apologize profusely and bail from the scene when he mistook her cousin brother to be her boyfriend.

Later, Ryu had pointed out that she was watching their match against Inarizaki, and he’d been so embarrassed back then, to know that a girl who’d lifted him up by his armpits to save him from smashing his face into her chest, was watching him play.

Dammit, he could _not_ stop thinking about it now that it was on his mind again.

“I’m Nishinoya Yuu.” He managed to convey, before he made things weird with his lack of a reply. “You probably don’t remember me, but we kinda bumped into each other, way back at the 2013 Spring InterHigh. I’m also . . . uh, Ryu’s . . . friend.”

As soon as he said the name, her eyes widened, only a second passing before refilling with tears.

“Oh, oh!” She spoke a bit too quickly for it to sound normal, wiping her sleeve against her face hurriedly. “I remember! Nishinoya-kun . . . you’re Karasuno’s libero! Well, _were_ anyway, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a little taken aback, not knowing how to respond to her tears.

“Ryu-chan,” She sounded out, and the way she said it told him a million things about how she felt for the person who owned the name.

“Ryu-chan,” she said again, now a little wobbly, but still so tender and soft. “How is he doing? I haven’t talked to him in a while now. I probably should, but . . .”

And more tears filled her eyes, cueing her hands to rub at them again.

Nishinoya knew then, that the reason why she was crying probably wasn’t too different from the reason why he was feeling so messed up inside himself.

Looking down at the ground between them, he chuckled. “Yeah, same here. I haven’t called him in a while either. I should, but . . . hmm.”

He cleared his throat, unsure why exactly he was saying all of this. “I haven’t met him since his, ah, wedding _._ I left Japan shortly after, and only just got back. So yeah.”

Amanai pulled her hands back from her now splotchy face, most likely recognizing his melancholic tone, and the hints he left in the spaces between his words.

She did the blinking thing again, and he thought at the back of his head, that it was cute.

“I see.” She said slowly. “I suppose my reasons are similar. Things are busy, and I just . . . felt like I shouldn’t try to worm my way into his life, now that he’s started one for himself. I . . . I used to have a crush on him, you know?”

_Used to?_

Nishinoya smiled, noticing how her guard was down - he was afraid of calling Asahi for the same reason, because his guard was down and he'd probably spill everything out in a hurried avalanche, burying the poor brunet under everything. “I guess I did hear about that. ‘S okay, I had a pretty big crush on his wife.”

He looked up to spy on her reaction, surprise rushing into him when he saw her wide-eyed, open mouthed stare. “Kiyoko-san?”

“Yep.” He managed. “Back in high school.”

The shock on her face seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had come. “Well, she’s a wonderful person, I’m sure. She’s beautiful, and seems patient and kind. I bet a lot of people were in love with her, not just you and Ryu-chan.”

It sounded so subdued, so hurt.

And the way she pinpointed that Nishinoya’s feelings were the same as Ryu’s . . .

It was as if she could only dream to be like that; a girl that people noticed and desired. As if the words she used to describe Kiyoko-san – beautiful, patient, kind, wonderful – were things she knew to the core of her bones and her soul, that she could never be.

As if she wished, at least a little, that she could have _Ryu-chan’s_ heart, the way Kiyoko-san had so easily done.

Nishinoya didn’t know this girl too well.

Sure, he already had the impression that she was a tender, gentle-hearted person. That she had enough patience to keep up, and be in love, with the rowdy Tanaka Ryuunosuke for so many years.

And she was definitely beautiful – not the way Kiyoko was, with her slanted eyes, porcelain skin, smooth curves and soft voice, making his heart leap and race – but with an innocence; an unblemished beauty that caused his blood to rush and heat up in waves, and reminded him of the ancient Greek depictions of pure, unconditional love – something they called _agape._

He didn’t know Amanai Kanoka well, but in getting a taste of her feelings through her eyes and her voice and by stumbling into her moment of weakness, he wanted to know her more than he did.

He wanted to help her heal, maybe because he was struggling so hard to do it for himself, and knew that with someone’s genuine kindness, it could be much more effortless.

The feelings were rushed; he should tame them before they drove him off the line.

But he didn’t.

“So,” he slotted the key in his hand into the motorcycle. “Are you . . busy, or would you maybe, you know, like to go on a late-night ride around the city with me?”

She giggled, at all the tentative words he put in the sentence, before hesitating.

“I um, would take you up on that,” she glanced down at what she was wearing, touching her face full of drying tear streaks. The hoodie was dark red, her pants black and hugging her legs nicely. “But I look a little horrid right now-”

“You look cute.” The words came out suddenly, on impulse - so he fought to make them sound more natural. “Trust me, you look fine. Unless you’re not warm enough?”

She stared at him, and he was about to melt down and decide that he’d just messed up, when she shook her head a little. “I think I’m warm okay.”

“Then come on!” He grinned, leaping onto the motorcycle and getting comfortable, before reaching over to grab the helmet in the basket and hand it to her. “Yeah? We can hit a 7/11 and get something to eat, if you like.”

Amanai contemplated that for a moment, observing the way he held the helmet out for her as she tilted her head, seeming to weigh her options.

Then, she smiled – the slant of her lips making Nishinoya’s heart flutter because damn, she was cute as hell and he was not overreacting at all – and took it from him. “Okay, then.”

“Get that one for me, will you?” His smile widened as he backed the bike out from its parked spot, jutting his chin out to point at the helmet nestled in the basket of the other motorcycle there.

She complied, giggling at the way he grumbled under his breath about how his spikes would get flattened as she clambered onto the vehicle behind him, grabbing onto his shoulder to steady herself.

Her touch, strong and light at the same time, almost gave him an electric shock.

It felt nice, in a way he hadn’t experienced before.

_All the better._

Amanai Kanoka, he learned within the next few hours, was a soft girl. She spoke softly, walked softly and smiled softly too.

Not _quietly_ , mind you – but softly.

It was the only way he could explain it.

Nishinoya didn’t want to push things, so he decided to keep visiting Shibuya Sky another time, though he was filled with the urge to see how she might react to the view the place offered.

She was just the kind of girl who would swoon at the city spread out below, letting out muted ‘ _oohs’_ and ‘ _aahs’_ as her rounded eyes took in all the lights and neon avenues under the late-night sky. Gripping the railing, leaning down before remembering that she was here with someone and looking up to flash him a shy smile.

Leaving that for a next time – which he, surprisingly, was already hoping for - he instead drove them around the empty streets, letting the cool wind and serenity, the pastel lights and the whisper of trees put to sleep the awakened sad stories of their pasts.

“So, Amanai-san,” he’d struck a conversation at one point, glad he was good at it. “What does it feel like to be the ace for a National team?”

“Hmm,” her exhale played through the hairs at the back of his neck, making his skin prick up with goosebumps.

“A little nerve-wracking,” she admitted nonchalantly. “But I’ve grown since high school, at least enough to be okay with the angrier crowds.”

“Hmm? That sounds great – must be an awesome feeling to know that what used to bother you isn’t so bad anymore!”

Amanai let out a hum of agreement at that. “Yeah, though I don’t think I improved much outside the court.”

Her tone was joking, but he thought he sensed something pensive behind the words. Taking a peek at her through the mirror, he took in the small image of her seated just behind him, reflecting the colors from the buildings they passed. “Oh?”

“Well,” She sounded relaxed enough about the subject, thankfully. “I was always a shy girl, growing up too. Jumpy, timid, all that. It was Ryu-chan that helped me get over most of it, and I felt better about myself later on . . . but not so much.”

It was the warmth coming off her body, the way her knees sometimes bumped into the back of his hips, that distracted Nishinoya from how she said Ryu’s name.

This close contact the motorcycle provided, it was a blessing, but it could possibly make his heart end up spattering onto the road by the time they found that 7/11.

“Well, I left volleyball behind after school, but I miss it,” He chuckled, swallowing his heart back for the umpteenth time. “Played receiver for some guys I met around Manhattan, Malibu, and in Manly Beach – that’s Sydney.”

“I could never travel so far on my own. You’re so independent, Nishinoya-kun.” Amanai sounded awed, and Nishinoya felt a twinge of pride in his chest.

“I’ve gone to Sydney too, for an away game last year.” She continued. “But we never get to enjoy the places we go to, since it’s all prepping for the match and interviews and packing up immediately after.”

Spying what he was looking for – an orange and red sign with 7 ELEVEN printed in bold – he veered the motorcycle over to a stop by the sidewalk.

“Maybe we could go somewhere together, when the season’s out.” Nishinoya suggested playfully as he unbuckled his helmet, hoping inwardly that she would laugh and not take it as seriously as he, accidentally on purpose, made it sound.

To his surprise, she responded with a thoughtful nod. “Mm, that would be fun.”

And there his cheeks went again, heating up.

Trying to hide the way her words tinted his face red, he quickly strode forward to the shop, tucking his helmet under his arm. “C’mon, what do you wanna have?”

Amanai’s shadow danced behind his as she walked over to catch up to him.

A small gasp was his only reply, and he spun around a little too quickly to see what had happened, almost launching into a standing version of _rolling thunder_ as he did.

“Oh,” she was patting the pockets of her hoodie. “I actually don’t have any money- ”

“That’s fine,” he cut in, relieved that it wasn’t something serious like he’d assumed. Taking out his wallet, he lifted it up for her to see. “I’ve got more than enough for both of us!”

She protested, promising to pay him back later, but he waved her apologies and insistence with a laugh and a wave.

Making his way into the store, he made sure to hold the door open for her, and greeted the old man hunched over the counter with a cheerful, “Hey there, Mister!”

The man looked up, pleasant surprise on his face as he nodded and returned Amanai’s polite smile.

“What do you have here - do you sell _Gari-Gari Kun_?” Nishinoya called as he headed right into the aisles, looking for the freezer where the frozen sweets would be stored.

“Check the fridge, son, they should be there.” The man looked after his disappearing figure, an amused grin crinkling his weathered face.

Knowing she couldn’t match the vibrant energy the former libero had just displayed, Kanoka whisked herself into the aisle too, excusing herself with a small bow.

“Amanai-san, do you like _Gari-Gari Kun_?” He turned to her as she arrived beside him, showing her the soda flavored popsicle he’d taken from the freezer.

She nodded, eyeing the ice creams arranged neatly inside. “Yeah, I like the pineapple ones best.”

“I prefer the soda ones, but pineapple’s pretty great too!” He handed her the requested popsicle, with the _Gari-Gari Kun_ icon - a big mouthed boy with one of the frozen treats in his hand - on the wrapping.

Grabbing a bottle of water and a pack of chips, Nishinoya marched back to the counter where he readily conversed with the shopkeeper as the man ran the register.

“Thanks, Mister!” he waved cheerily as he headed out, again holding the door so Amanai could slip past him.

She found him . . . what had she called it just then . . . _vibrant._

Brimming with confidence and excitement. He was a little intense – especially his eyes, that looked like melted chocolate infused with lightning - but she couldn’t help but feel pulled into them.

Amanai didn’t really believe in the saying, _opposites attract_.

She’d seen enough proof throughout her life that people who thought and acted differently on everything had trouble getting along – that they never ended up happy together.

There were instances where one party developed feelings for the other – her past love for Ryu-chan was a fine example of that – but it never worked out.

It didn’t, not for her anyway.

But here, she was seeing it happen again. This time, too, to herself.

An attraction like that of the sea to the sky. Like that of the moon to the sun. Of people, to stars.

Nishinoya Yuu wasn’t much like her. At all, even.

He was outgoing, adventurous and full of love for life.

And while Amanai had conquered the court, when she didn’t have her eyes on a volleyball, things were very much different.

She was still shy, still lacked much of the confidence she desired to have in herself. And she was still heartbroken, lonely.

Of course, she’d promised to herself the moment her heart had gotten its first blow, that she would not let it get in the way of her goals and dreams.

And it hadn’t gotten in the way.

She’d carved her own path, walked it till she was at the very top.

That didn’t mean her heart was any less broken, though.

And it did still hurt.

Nishinoya felt the air that had been picking up around Amanai fade away, and when he turned around to look at her, he thought she was trying to hold back tears.

“Hey, look!” He felt a little panicky at the sight, and pointed almost randomly, though his finger thankfully landed in the direction of a bench set up on the sidewalk. “Want to go sit there and eat these?”

“Sure,” Amanai bobbed her head in approval, and he saw her relax slightly as she made her way over with him, plopping down onto the wooden seat and tearing open the pineapple popsicle he’d handed her.

The billboard behind them flashed, an image of two silver haired models brandishing bottles of perfume like they were pistols, appearing on the screen.

Nishinoya cleared his throat, curiosity getting the better of him. “So, is it your team that’s been terrorizing the hotel?”

Amanai laughed at that, embarrassed and amused. “Yeah, sorry, the staff keeps having to remind us to tone down. We have some new players – two Indian sisters – and they’re, ah, very ecstatic about our win yesterday.”

Nishinoya nodded. “I can understand that,” He chuckled. “The receptionist was kinda ominous when she warned me about you guys.”

“She was?” Amanai looked crestfallen, now feeling bad about the ruckus her teammates had made.

“The staff hates us, right?” she lamented.

“Nah, I think they found it funny.” Nishinoya took a bite of his soda popsicle. “Where are they now, though? Your teammates, I mean.”

“Oh.” Amanai’s voice immediately took a subdued turn, the sparkle in her eyes going dull along with it - and Nishinoya wished Sugawara was here to shout at him about reading the room. One of the setter’s painful whacks upside the head would’ve been good.

“Well,” she said slowly, and Nishinoya listened carefully. “We’re all jet-lagged, nobody could sleep. They went to have drinks, go for karaoke and stuff. I wasn’t feeling it, so I said I’d stay in.”

“Why not?” He asked, hoping that wasn’t the wrong question.

“I felt a little out of place.” Amanai giggled, though this time it sounded sad. “They all called up their boyfriends, and I don’t have one. Didn’t feel like third wheeling eight couples all by myself.”

“Damn, they’re all hooked up?” Nishinoya marveled, sucking on his ice cream.

“Mmm,” Kanoka murmured, biting into her own.

A few moments passed, a car dashing down the road to break the silence left between the crinkling of the chips packet and Nishinoya’s slurping.

“Wanna talk about it?” He finally brought up the courage to say it. “About why you were . .”

Amanai didn’t answer for a breath, and Nishinoya again wanted Sugawara to materialize in front of him and punch a hole through his gut.

“I think I’m okay now, thank you, Nishinoya-kun.” She finally said, and Nishinoya felt a tad humiliated that she turned him down, but it was washed away when she turned to him and smiled.

Happy, with her eyes like a galaxy in the city lights. “Going on this 2 AM motorcycle ride, and eating _Gari-Gari Kun_ with you made me feel much better.” Her smile widened, showing her teeth. Her lips were wet with popsicle, and Nishinoya felt a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to just lean forward and see if they felt as soft and supple as they looked.

Almost.

He was going to take this _slow and steady._

“Yeah?” He grinned, moving his soda flavored treat away from his mouth as he leaned back against the bench. “Maybe we should go out again sometime, then.”

Amanai’s face looked flushed, beautiful, as she giggled at his offer. “Yeah, we should.”

She pulled her popsicle back, too, and the two of them shared a content look with each other, feeling the same sensation of hope arising in their soul, claiming the bitter memories that had earlier taken over and pulling them back, to leave the sweet taste of something new on their tongues.

The worries that had been weighing Nishinoya down when he’d walked out of Haneda Airport were no longer there.

He’d wondered if there was nothing in this world that would lift him up from where he was caught in the few, little yet incredibly powerful downfalls of his past.

Wondered if there even existed, out there somewhere, something that could cut him out and finally set him free to fly.

And here, he was experiencing it.

Experiencing her, the surface of who she was.

The start of something new.

Amanai Kanoka.

An experience that he promised himself, he would turn into something more, slowly and gently.

Tenderly. Softly. Just like her.

And for the first time that night, Nishinoya was happy with the silence that settled between them.

Content, peaceful, with a hint of—

_SPLAT!_

“NOOOO!! GARI-GARI KUN, WHYYYY?!!”

And the silence gave way to the sound of their laughter, loud and rugged, soft and clear, echoing into the quiet midnight streets of Shibuya City.

**Author's Note:**

> R.I.P Gari-Gari Kun. You were delicious while you lasted.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Please do leave kudos and comments to let me know what you think o(*￣▽￣*)ブ


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